


Mother Knows Best

by EverytimeIDoSomethingStupid (kingkongkitty)



Series: The story of a cleric [1]
Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Child Death, D&D, Death, Gen, OC, wheelie bin of shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 12:05:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7976200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingkongkitty/pseuds/EverytimeIDoSomethingStupid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the first little bit of backstory for my half-elf cleric Filegedhiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother Knows Best

A pretty, dark-haired face popped out of the doorway to a small ramshackle house, dark eyes darting around until they settled on a small silver-blonde head. “Sweetheart, dinner’s ready!”

“Coming mum!” Filegedhiel brushed the dried mud from her hands, before standing and running to the doorway of her home. She was dressed in neatly stitched clothes, a simple pair of trousers and a shirt that were near impossible to ruin with dirt thanks to the heavy material they were made from. Her hair was up in braids, courtesy of her mother’s careful fingers, keeping her hair out of the mud.

She hugged her mother as she passed her, careful not to knock the swell of her stomach that almost filled the doorway. Although she was only seven month pregnant, Mariam had filled out significantly, so much so that the village was expecting a pair of healthy twins. With a laugh her mother pressed a kiss to the top of Fil’s head, before ushering her through into the main room where a table was propped up with a pile of spellbooks.

With a snap of her fingers, Mariam guided a pot of stew into the room, two bowls of the fragrant meal being ladled out by thin air. As her pregnancy had progressed she’d been using more and more magic for everyday tasks, to Fil’s delight. As her stomach swelled and made it harder to move, her magic was invaluable to keeping her household running, but it was tiring, the shadows under her eyes deepening with every passing day, especially as she tried to finish other enchantments various people around the village had requested so she could afford to put food on the table.

But despite her bone deep tiredness and the stress of motherhood, she still found time to spoil her daughter. “Look, I made you a present.” With a smile her mother pulled a small bundle of cloth from her pocket, unwrapping it to reveal a small used candle. She handed it to FIl, laughing at the confused look on the child’s face. “It’s a candle that can’t be lit. You can go and confuse your friends with it, or one of the farmer’s boys.”

Fil took the candle with a smile, kissing her mother in thanks before she tucked it away, keeping it safe. She started to clear the table, helping as her mother as much as she could in her clumsy eight year old way.

Her mother smiled, standing up carefully and making her way through the house when she froze in shock, a stream of liquid dripping between her legs as her water broke.

“Shit.” She swore under her breath, looking at her daughter in panic. “The baby’s coming. Fil, run and fetch the healer for me.”

The small girl nodded, running from her home and down the streets of Lirigon until she got to the home of the healer. The two of them sprinted back, and Fil was sent to fetch various other women around the village to help with the birth.

She sat next to her mother, holding her hand as the contractions started, hand aching due to her mother’s white knuckled grip, but she kept smiling throughout, helping with what she could. After a few hours her Mariam began to grunt with pain and FIl was quickly removed from the house. She kissed her mother’s head before she left. “I love you mummy.”

“I’ll see you soon darling.” Mariam forced a smile out, her brow sweaty as she panted, groaning in pain once Fil was out of the room.

Fil curled up outside the window, listening to her mother yell as she gave birth, tears streaking down her face at her mother’s pain. It was over soon through, a sudden quiet filling the streets and Fil ran back into the house, a wide smile on her face as she entered to meet her new sibling, the loud screams of a newborn infant disguising the deathly quiet in the room.

She froze in shock at the sight before her. There was blood pooled on the floor, a square of cloth over her mother’s face, a bloody bundle in the corpse’s arms as the women guided her away from the room. Her grandmother took both her and her brother in, caring for them as they both grieved.

After that it was a blur. A funeral was arranged, people from miles away turning up to give their respects to the talented arcanist who’d helped people as much as she could, asking for little in return, just enough to live off.

Fil heard all too many times how proud she should be, how incredible her mother was, but words wouldn’t bring Mariam back, and her tears kept falling as she mourned both her mother and the brother she’d never gotten to meet.

Her father turned up a few months later, nose turned up at the sheer humanness of Lirigon, taking her away with no intent to let her return, despite the protests of her grandmother. He left her brother in the village. He had no interest in a child that didn’t share his blood.

Nowadays Fil can barely remember her mother. She’d only been young when her mother had passed, and so much had happened since then that the only memories she has of her is a wide smile and half sung lullabies drifting through her dreams.

The fact she looks so similar to her father is like a slap in the face. She’d gone through a phase of trying to darken her hair with coffee, wanting to lose the resemblance to him, but in the end had given up. Mariam had loved her hair as it was, so she kept her hair up in the loose plaits, coiling them around her head like she’d worn as a child.

At least she has her mother’s smile, or so she was told, so at the very least she can remember Mariam when she smiles. She’s spent many an hour smiling in a mirror and trying to build her mother’s face up from that, but she fails each time. She can only pray that her brother is somewhere safe and bears more of a family resemblance than she does.


End file.
